It hurts her so
by CelestialGrace
Summary: Clary Fray is forced to seek refuge amongst the Shadowhunters - a race she had never knew existed until that fatal day. But her woes and strife are not over as she is tormented ceaselessly by Jace Wayland and his cronies: the Lightwoods, Blackthorns and Penhallow, as she tries to fit into this new extraordinary world. She has lost her home, her mother, her father figure and her b.f
1. Chapter 1: Her Sanctuary

**Author's Note: Hello there, I hope you enjoy this start to the story. I'll be releasing the next Chapter whenever it's ready. All I need from everyone is honest and helpful reviews. I've never written a fanfic before, and I haven't attempted to write a story in a very long time, so I feel rusty. **

**Let me know what you like and hate. Where you'd like the story to go. Or even if you like the story at all.**

_**I most obviously do not own any rights to the works of Cassandra Clare**_

_It hurts her so_

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*Pl-op* the sound emanated over her, alongside the contents of the beaker placed on the table she was sitting at; and the feeling of dread quite often brought about by these situations. She tucked her hands under the table, knotting her fingers within the fabric of her top, readying herself for the oncoming abuse. But as she looked up into the threatening golden eyes, she knew would be behind this, she saw that the atmosphere of the situation was different.

"I thought I'd be nice enough to return this antique, you, call a phone." The culprit announced, whilst smirking at her mercilessly. His cronies were wailing with laughter, as her mind screamed in her misery. "_No, no, no... not my phone!_" She felt her eyes welling up and tried to fight back the tears. "_I will not cry in front of them – I've prevented it so far, don't fail now... not even for this...". _

She took her time to calm down, but as she did she realised she'd taken too long. It had been obvious from her prolonged silence, that they had hurt her, that they had achieved their malevolent goal. Breathing deeply, she cautiously scanned the faces of the people surrounding her, nearly all were still laughing. But the aureate young man standing amongst them was no longer laughing, nor the ethereal dark beauty standing beside him. Isabelle's silky tones called out to her. "What's wrong Fray? Couldn't look after your mundane crap? Haha!"

Clarissa flinched back into her chair. This was too much for her, and she had to get out of there. Attempting to sense if there was anyone blocking her path to the door leading to the rest of the Institute, without having to turn her back on her attackers, Clarissa planned her escape. They were all still laughing and pointing at her face. She could assume to know why too, as she felt her cheeks burning and knew that they were most likely the same colour as her copper hair, but she needed to use this as a distraction, to use it to run. The moment the group of friends bent into each other to laugh harder, she pushed herself out of the chair, leapt towards the direction of the door and forced her short legs to work hard and get herself out of there. She had pulled herself through the door by the time they'd straightened themselves up, and was making it towards the only place she'd ever felt safe since having to seek refuge within these walls. Hodge's greenhouse.

Once in the corridor heading towards her sanctuary, she could hear the group laughing even harder at her escape. But she could also hear the blood-curdling sound of someone pursuing her, and had to push herself harder than she ever had, to increase the distance between whoever it was and herself. She knew that she couldn't face yet another torturous blow, not today; she was at her limit once again, so as soon as she came across one of the smaller passages built into the Institute through which most average sized 16 year olds could not fit, she pushed her way through and tried her best to move quietly, so as to not give away her destination.

At the end of the passage she stopped to listen for anyone following her or approaching the greenhouse, and found that the way was clear. She leapt from her hiding place and lunged at the door, throwing herself inside. A flood of relief threw itself over her body, and she could finally feel herself relaxing for the first time since waking that morning. As she looked around in the evening sunlight, the scents and sight of the wonderful flowers blooming in the greenhouse still amazed her, and sent goosebumps all over her body, it didn't even feel like she had already been here for two months, and this would have been her 100th escape. Clarissa made her way to the east wing of the greenhouse, and to her favourite hideaway, where she had stashed her mothers sketchbook along with her own and a few pencils. Settling herself into the window seat there, she hugged her mothers book to her chest and finally allowed herself to cry.

Over the day the pain and hurt inflicted upon her by those hellions had climaxed at the point her phone was destroyed. She would have been able to contain the damage, if it had not been for that final blow. But still "_What worse could they do now?" _she asked herself thinking back on the day. Thinking back on everything and letting the sobs take over her body. Wayland and his cronies had destroyed the only images and recordings left of her mother. There was nothing left now. No chance for her to reminisce upon the best times in her life. She was truly alone in this unfamiliar world, and could ask no one for comfort; not even this sketchbook, it was the place her mother took herself when she wanted to be alone. The side of herself she couldn't share with her daughter, and it hurt Clarissa so. The sobs racked her body as she let the pain flow out of her. As she sobbed she started to fall asleep.

Clarissa shuddered awake at the sound of someone stomping around within the greenhouse. Her neck was stiff and her eyes felt sore and puffy, and then she could smell the sweet smelling plants surrounding her, and realised that she was still in her sanctuary. But she also became aware that someone else was here too. Listening carefully she could tell, that they were in the west wing near to the rock pool nestled in between long grasses, however she could also tell that they were not looking for someone – she was still safe, as long as she was smart enough to duck down and hide. At which point she decided it was better to act sooner than later, and she went to slink down off the windowsill she'd made a bed out of.

Just as she did, the sketchbook and pencils that had been resting in her lap fell to the floor, causing quite the ruckus...


	2. Chapter 2: A Mother's Legacy

**Hello there once again,**

**Here's the next chapter to my fanfic story. I will put a warning here as it has mature language within the chapter.**

**I've had some brilliant and helpful reviews which have helped me to focus the direction of the story. So thank you very much guys. I am still looking for more helpful reviews as the story goes on – as I've said before it has been a very long time since I tried to write a story, and the first time I've tried a fanfic! Some may not understand the direction it is taking but if you stay strapped in to your seats – I feel like it will be worth the ride.**

**As obvious as it may be, I will once again state that ****I own no rights**** to the wonderful Mortal Instruments. They belong to the magnificent Cassandra Clare.**

**I hope you enjoy my contribution.**

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She threw herself down on to the floor, and listened carefully to see if they were coming over to her location, but just then Church the Institute's cat slinked past her and yowled at the oncoming individual.

"Oh, it's you Church! What have you broken now, eh?" She could tell by the voice that it was Jace, and her heart started hammering against her ribs in fear. Once again, getting away from him required fast action, luckily being only 5ft 2" and small for it, Clarissa could move deftly, so she silently picked up her belongings and hid amongst the bushes of four o'clocks nearby, hoping the bright colours would mask her fiery-red hair.

But it didn't seem to matter either way, because Jace didn't come any closer to her hiding place, and from the loud purring she could assume it was because he was now busy giving all of his attention to the fat Russian-blue. She allowed herself to relax a little, knowing that she would now be stuck within the four o'clocks for an inevitable amount of time, and laid herself down amongst the roots and dirt.

Jace had coaxed Church to the rock pool so that he could perch on it's edge and continue to pet the grouchy beast more comfortably, and it was at this point he started to confide in the cat. Clarissa rolled her eyes, all she needed now was to overhear an arsehole's made up problems; but still maybe it could provide her with some humour to draw from when he next causes her grief, and it was not like she could just get up and leave. However what he said next made her ears perk up, it seemed so hard to believe.

"Why do I, do it Church..? I am horrid to people all of the time... I don't even understand why I feel the need to do it. I don't want to; but I feel pressured to come up with these horrible schemes to belittle others – like I can't be anyone else. I know it's no excuse, that if I just had some guts, I could stop it all... but still." He paused sighing heavily, and Clarissa didn't know what to do with herself; she felt like laughing at his pathetic excuses, possibly punching him for being such an ass or even crying – cause she knew this meant that the onslaught would just keep on coming, and then that's when he said it. "...It has to be to do with him Church... Why else would I act like this? As if it's natural to me? All those 'lessons' he gave me. All the preaching... Will I never break free of his hold on me?! Achk!" A loud spitting hiss came from their location, and Clarissa could tell that Church had, had just about enough of Jace's shit, as she had. Jace Wayland had the cheek to try to blame his actions on someone else. Typical.

However outrageous a revelation, she was overly-thankful for Church's input, as her body had started going numb from staying in one position for so long, and it seemed that the drama-queen was about to depart in a huff, so she would finally be free of the four o'clocks, dirt and roots. At the sound of stomps and then the door closing heavily within the greenhouse, Clarissa pulled the sketchbook and pencils out from her hiding place, after herself. She would need to remember that hidey-hole for future reference.

Upon standing up and stretching out her petite frame, she began trying to get the twigs and debris out of her roiling mass of curls. Her fiery tendrils had always given her trouble, it was hard to manage and time-consuming, but her mother had liked her hair this way the best, so she felt inclined to keep it this way now... in memoriam to the loving mother she had lost. Stroking her mother's sketchbook she thought of her mother's smile, often surrounded by paint and under-eye bags, and framed by hair even more blazing than her own. Yes, that's right. Her mother's fire ran through her too – Jocelyn Fairchild had left all that she had known behind when she went into the mundane world, to raise Clarissa by herself. She was fierce, and now her daughter had to be too, as she left that world behind her. Clarissa Fray will be her mother's legacy.

At this declaration, Clarissa took off for her room, no longer caring if anyone tried to torment her along the way. She was determined to conquer this world now. She was not going to let this turmoil overwhelm her; Shadowhunter is her apellation too and as such, she will live up to the name. Speeding through the Institute she finally came upon her door, and shoved into it hard as she entered the room. Since coming to the Institute in haste, she had brought little with her, the room was as plain as nearly all of the other rooms kept ready for visiting members of the Shadowhunter race, however she did have a few sketches tacked to the walls, around the simple bed with it's bedside table, desk and wardrobe occupying the room. She went straight to the bedside where she had been keeping the strange book given to her upon her arrival. Hodge had told her it was a book that all Shadowhunter children owned, and was vital to her development within the Institute. She had neglected it at the time, too traumatised to process the information it contained. But now she was ready.

Pulling her desk chair next to the window, a Gothic frame of mix-matched glass now looking out on to a dimming sky, Clarissa grabbed the Shadowhunter's Codex and her blanket and settled into the chair to engulf herself in the knowledge provided by the text. Letting herself be filled with the wonder and curiosities of her new world opening up before her, as understanding grew within herself. She stayed glued to the book for several hours, reading parts of it over and over again, until her head began to hurt and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

But upon waking with yet another stiff neck, and pair of sore eyes, Clarissa did not feel understanding for her own mother's actions. If this world was so brilliant, why had Jocelyn Fairchild discarded her own name, something that many Shadowhunter families seemed to worship, isolated herself from her own race and tried so hard to keep Clarissa from discovering the real world she lived in? A world in which all the stories she'd heard growing up were true. What had happened to make her mother live a life in exile...? These were all questions she would not find the answers to herself, and she knew it. So therefore solving these uncertainties was a problem she could not yet face, however finding out the details that the codex failed to include, and the real goings on of this world was something she could face. From now on she would train secretly, study what she could within the library, and then when ready she would attempt to convince Hodge Starkweather to let her join the other villainous occupants of the Institute in their 'investigations'. Clarissa suspected that the Shadowhunter's main occupation of hunting and killing other races was a part of her mother's renunciation – but as she couldn't tell for sure, she would have to involve herself in this warriors life.

*Involve herself she did. The next day she decided she was going to ask Hodge to let her start training with the other inhabitants. Of course it would have to be after yet another unpleasant breakfast, surrounded by the world's number-one arsehole and his herd of sheep, in which Jace had continued to goad her about the phone he had joyously destroyed the day before; after hearing his confession the previous evening, all Clarissa could do was glare at them all and urge herself to eat her porridge faster, so as to get to Hodge before morning lectures started.

*(A.N: I felt the above paragraph didn't quite make sense, nor did it fit with my next chapter so I have edited it)


	3. Not a chapter: an apology

Oh my word! Over a month since I started this story? I didn't even realise!

As I said in my first chapter, this is my first fan fiction piece of work - I didn't anticipate that I'd have this much writer's block already, and that I'd carry out such a faux pas of not writing the chapters beforehand. So I apologise!

I was busy with a placement for a month working 12 hour shifts, but now I'm free, so I'm working hard to catch up!

Should have a chapter to release very soon.

Thanks for your interest in the story. and once again, I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter 3: Grit and Determination

**Hello guys!**

**Well.. it looks like I managed to finish off this chapter tonight! Sorry for that long wait, I will try to work overtime to keep this story updated from now on though!**

**As mentioned before I had trouble with writer's block but now I seem to be back on track. Hopefully you readers will continue to like the direction this is heading in; let me know if there's anything I could do to improve! Criticisms welcome!**

**Bit of a shorter chapter, and it almost fills like a filler piece but still :)**

**It should be painfully obvious but I do not own any of Cassandra Clare's work: The Mortal Instruments.**

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She found Hodge Starkweather exactly where she expected him to be; at his desk within the library. Clarissa felt apprehensive, since coming to the institute the night of her mother's death Hodge had been kind enough to her, but he distanced himself from the attacks she had been facing, which made her wonder if he was actually being nice towards her, or If he was just obligated to show concern, Clarissa had no idea how her request would be received. However, once she had managed to ask the Institutes' tutor if she could start to train, he seemed to be pleased at her sudden interest in her heritage, enthusing about the wonders that laid ahead of Clarissa, much to her relief. It was agreed that she would not be able to join Hodge's other pupils, as they were far too developed, so Hodge was to provide Clarissa with private tutoring until she was at an acceptable level to meet their standards. Hodge warned her that it may take her some time, and that she would need patience, grit and determination to see her through. At this point Clarissa requested Hodge to keep knowledge of her progress between herself, Hodge, and the heads of the Institute, Maryse and Robert Lightwood, as she didn't want to provide more fuel to the fires of her bullies, but knew to stay here, she would need to provide evidence of her training.

"Ah... yes. Unfortunately you do seem to be having trouble with fitting in with the other trainees..." Hodge mused, which caused Clarissa to suck in a breath audibly, as an angry colour began to flush her cheeks. He looked at her with curiosity. "You may think me cold to not step in and stop their bullying, but I am not of good standing within the Shadowhunter community. We are a proud race, and my youthful mistakes put me below the families with children training within this Institute. I cannot scold them, and they all know it. I am sorry for you Clarissa. But it would not be beneficial for you to seem to be in my favour either way." A deep silence fell between them, as this information sunk in, and puzzlement took over Clarissa, but within minutes the silence was broken. Hodge had thought of a way for Clarissa to spend her time, whilst he was tutoring the others; she was to start gardening within his greenhouse. He gave her an instructive book and told her to be ready for lessons at 2pm, when he'd meet her by the rock pool; at which point he left to ready himself for tutoring.

As it was only 9:30 am, Clarissa decided to peruse the plethora of books available within the library. It was a grand room, built into the centre of the Institute, with shelves all along the walls, it even had an upper floor, and several ladders on coasters were provided (Score). Clary had always loved books, and had dreamed of such a library since watching a film as a child (A.N: can anyone guess the film?). But it also brought her to thinking of why she loved books; Luke. He had been her father figure for as long as she could remember, he owned an independent book store which meant that he would bring her books to read whenever he came to see her mother, which was a lot, and even when Clarissa had, had to stay with Luke, his house had been filled with stock. All that time spent around books, Luke, and her mother had given her such elation. Even now, they had caused a smile to form on her lips at the bittersweet memories. Her mother had died, but Luke hadn't. He was was out there, somewhere. Luke had been so insistent when forcing her to go to the Institute, and she still didn't understand why she could not stay with him; they were both grieving, lost, afraid and in need of answers but she couldn't stay with him? Luke had said that she needed to be with her own kind, and yet it was Luke who had to show her the Institute through it's glamour, it was Luke that she had known all her life, he was her kin and kind, and he must be a part of this strange world too – but how? Clarissa was tiring of creating questions she did not yet know how to answer, so she decided to pick up a random book to read in solitude, and left through the grand doors carrying both books, heading for her room.

Clarissa had settled herself into her new nestling space, made up of the uncomfortable office chair next to the window, and desk occupying the space within her room, and opened up the strange tome she had found, flicking through the dusty pages and assessing her find. It appeared to instruct Shadowhunters of the best weapons to use whilst faced with different situations, creatures and their uses, a brilliant resource within her eyes, and as such she decided to give the greenhouse a skip, continuing to read until the little tin clock she'd set to alarm her of her training.

Knowing that those who wished to torment her would be free to roam within the halls now that their own training had finished, Clarissa decided to take her little passage towards the greenhouse, once she found the right corridor, as she wasn't in the mood for Wayland and his cronies' crap; cutting through the spider webs and dust to meet Hodge in time. Once she got to the opening near to the greenhouse, she could hear Mr. Starkweather coming down from the other end of the corridor, so decided to once again dive for the greenhouse door, planting the book open beside her, on the low rock wall of the little pool just as the clock struck 2pm. At which point Hodge, entered swiftly moving towards her, and Clarissa Fray started on her journey to become a Shadowhunter warrior.

A few months later...

It was decided that she would have a review every few months, so that progress could be measured, at the first of these reviews, Hodge exclaimed at how well Clarissa was advancing, she was being tutored in Shadowhunter History, Politics, Weaponry, Runing and of the Shadow World's inhabitants, and Hodge had even started to train her physically, and she was at the same level of his other tutees, within several weeks, compared to their 10 year head start. Clarissa herself was not surprised, she had been secretly studying in all of her spare time, even sneaking off to the training room at night to hone her skills with weapons and punchbags; she doubted that any of the other Institutes' pupils would ever pull their heads out of their own arses to put in as much effort, to be the best Shadowhunter they could be.

An effort it was indeed, Clarissa was exhausted, bruised and battered, and headache-y. But it had paid off, her thin arms had become refined with muscle, she could feel the strength starting to build in her short and once stubby legs, and even her childlike features had started to slim down, and it all made her feel like a different person. However she needed a break from here, she needed to walk the streets of New York once again, go to her favourite places... maybe even see one of her favourite people?

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Like where this is going? *wiggles eyebrows*

~CelestialGrace


	5. Chapter 4: Spindly arms count, okay

**Hey again guys :)**

**I have another chapter for your enjoyment, however it seems to be a bit more of a filler I'm sorry! But it's necessary. I felt I needed to show Clary's relationship with all the other Institute tutees, but I also needed to include something from outside of the Institute. So here we go.**

**Please help me out with some reviews? -pulls pleading face- I'm ready for the bad and the good, as I want to improve so please go ahead and tell me what you think!**

**It should be obvious - but I do not own any of the works of Cassandra Clare. The characters, places, and races mentioned within this fiction, are all her work.**

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Yes, Clarissa had grown up amongst the race that Shadowhunters call 'Mundane', and she was considered one of them within New York, but she had a feeling that the only reason people hadn't come looking for her, was because they probably thought her to be missing or even worse, dead. So how could she go strolling through the streets, without causing mayhem? It was obvious that she would need to use a glamour, and it was not a rune she had yet tried, she didn't even have her own stele, so she was at a loss of what to do... Maybe for now, she'll simply use disguise to get around. But first she would need a simple test, Luke. Surely, he would still have to be working? He would have been the only one left to mourn for her and her mother, to answer the questions police had; and sure enough, he could now answer the questions she had.

Now, the next problem Clarissa had, was that she didn't have many clothes at the Institute, and none of them were disguise worthy. There had to be some kind of lost and found within these many walls, and she was going to find it. Clarissa had come accustomed to getting around the place causing as little sound as she humanly could, she was at a disadvantage to everyone who could rune themselves at their own leisure, so had to use caution and sense to get past her tormentors. Of course, it's not like she had never been runed.

On the night of her mother's death, Luke had pulled her into a cab, supporting her heavily, as her injuries left her vision blurred and limbs pulsing. At one point she was certain she could see a treacle like substance oozing from the marks along her arm, and that Luke had been urging her to stay with him, but now it seemed far too surreal for her to be confident in what had been real, and what had been shock induced. There couldn't have really been a Ravener demon in her mundane home, could there? In her memories, she could see herself fending the beast off with whatever she could grab, which turned out to be a chair and kitchen knife, swiping at it whenever it got to close to her, however as she was herding it into her room, Luke ran into the room pushing the remainder of the door in with him, distracting Clarissa long enough to let the Ravener sink it's many teeth into the soft tissues of her arm, at which point it dislodged it's fangs as she had stabbed it and threw it behind the locked door of her bedroom. Luke had cursed heavily, urging her to leave, insisting that a Hospital wouldn't help, she needed different help, the help of her people, and that she couldn't stay with him. She was runed for the first time, at the brink of death within the vestibule of the Institute, with an Iratze that took her consciousness with it's pain. When she woke several days after the events of that night, she had another rune, Voyance, stark against the pale skin of her right hand.

Since then, she'd only seen runes on other Shadowhunters and within the Gray book, she only used them when sketching and practising with her 'practice stele', unable to get her own Adamas tool. However whilst looking at these marks, she also got the niggling feeling that she remembered seeing certain ones somewhere within her childhood. It still confused her, she felt like she could remember seeing certain things throughout her younger years, and yet her memories were all fuzzy. Clarissa could pinpoint no real elements of the Shadow world within her childhood, almost as if there was something blocking her from recalling such things, but it was no longer blocking them completely, and the edges of her memory blurred. This was obviously something she would have to ask Hodge about, as it might lead to developing an explanation of why her mother was dead. But now, she needed to focus on getting her break from here. She continued on her way, edging past the kitchen, after having checked the rooms around the training room, greenhouse and library.

"Have you seen little red these days...? Hahaha, she's got little spindly muscles now! How proud do you think she is? Hahaha" She heard Aline's distinctive tones, flowing out of the room in which her tormentors loved to occupy, along with their herd-like laughter, irking her greatly. Crud, how had she not thought of the fact that the others might actually notice. Plus it was hurtful to think that they could laugh at all of her efforts so easily, they would have been like her in the past, as all people had to start somewhere. "Pschh. Mundanes shouldn't try so hard to fit in, they will never match up to us." Came Alec's sombre tones. She was astounded at how pigheaded they could be. Yes, she'd grown up amongst the Mundanes, but she was still all Shadowhunter, if not a better version, as she didn't see herself as something so above another race. They were going to see. She was going to become the best she could be, and take them all on, at their own jobs. Then she will be the one laughing. Clarissa couldn't allow this onslaught to delay her plans though, so pushed on past.

She checked within the confines of all the rooms lining the corridor, and then just as she started to doubt the plan she had formulated, she came upon a crumpled cardboard box inside a cramped cupboard, in which she found a varied amount of junk – Clarissa couldn't formulate a logical explanation for where these lost items came from, but took joy in having found them. She picked out a scarf and some ridiculous sunglasses, glad that the autumn weather allowed for such apparel to go unnoticed within the city, with it's chilly winds and dazzling sunlight. However, she felt this would not be a successful disguise without a coat, and maybe even a hat, so got to thinking of where to find these items, when it suddenly struck her that the other residents of the Institute were nonchalant about where they left their jackets, so knew she'd find something to borrow around the bottom of the lift Shadowhunters used to get in and out of the building.

When Clarissa came upon the clothing left in piles along the benches lining the walls of the corridor, she huffed. This plan had taken a lot longer to carry out then she had anticipated, and she now had to sort through these. The day was slipping past her. Making an exec decision Clarissa decided to pull anything out from under a random pile, and hope for the best; the first time she tried she produced a woolly hat that smelt musty – she tried to imagine who it belonged to but failed miserably, the second time she came across a holey parka and shrugged it on to her small frame. It smothered her, but she felt that worked all the better. She took it off again to allow herself to tame her red locks under the scarf, before replacing the jacket and applying her hat and glasses, feeling confident with her work before running out of the door. The sweeping winds rushed to meet her, as her feet landed on the paving stones leading towards the Institute's gates and her heart thumped against her ribs with excitement and the feeling of freedom.

After hailing a cab and getting out within the streets of Manhattan, she had often haunted as a youth, Clarissa's feet took off, of their own accord taking her towards her destination, through muscle memory alone. She felt conflicted about what she was doing, this could be risky, she was only in a disguise that could be easily uncovered, she wouldn't be able to give any real answers to anyone who recognised her, and Clarissa had no idea what anyone had been told – so Luke could get in serious trouble here. But she had to see him, even if that was all she got to do. She missed him dearly, and wondered how he'd been. Clarissa knew Luke had loved her mother deeply, and for some unknown reason, he had kept his feelings from Jocelyn and they'd never gone past being close friends; and now her mother was gone from this world. He must be in ruins. She stopped in her tracks, realising that she had no real plan for this trip, and yet here she was already a few mere steps from the man she'd considered her father. Her heart was once again thumping against her ribs, but now it was with apprehension, longing and worry.

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What is going to happen now...?

Author's Question: has anyone else read the Iron Trial yet? Ohgosh ! Brilliant read - so compelling I finished it in two nights, meep!


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